


Conviction

by ZoeSong



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:06:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: Ivar has taken Bishop Heahmund prisoner in York and keeps him in chains, taunting him daily. Heahmund has a vision – and an idea of how to reach Ivar.





	Conviction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnderTheSkyline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheSkyline/gifts).



> In my story, Ivar cannot walk using crutches. Also, Ubbe is still there, as it is said in some places that three sons of Ragnar were part of the Great Heathen Army. See notes at the end.
> 
> This story came to me while watching Ivar and Heahmund verbally spar about Christianity. I had to laugh at Ivar’s pronouncements about the Virgin Mary, which reminded me of the conversation I wrote between Rollo and a priest in my story, _The Princess and the Bear_ ([Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4131462/chapters/10099784)). But in the case of Ivar, this outcome occurred to me, so I thought I’d toy with it. It could have great consequences for Ivar’s place in England and history (albeit a revisionist AU history). 
> 
> Many thanks to UnderTheSkyline for story feedback and moral support, to CeridwenofWales for helping to inspire me to keep writing during my winter break, and to Swimmingfox whose own writing venture influenced me to write some characters that I would never have considered before.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated.

~~

 

Heahmund opened his eyes as the bright sunlight sneaked through the tiny windows of his cell. He’d lost track of time since he’d been hustled down to this chamber and chained up. His wrists hurt from the continued chafing of the manacles he’d been forced into, and he was covered in bruises from the beatings he’d received. Now he struggled to stretch his cramped muscles as he raised himself from his slumped position.

He had tried to pray but found his faith sorely tested. How could God have deserted him on the battlefield? What had seemed to be a glorious victory had turned so quickly into humiliating defeat. At least he could rest in the knowledge that his king had escaped. 

Heahmund sighed and turned his head slowly, uncomfortable with the feeling that he was being watched. And then his eyes met Ivar’s startling blue ones. 

“Good morning, bishop. Did you sleep well?” Ivar’s voice held his usual mocking tone.

Heahmund tried to think of some way to answer that would not satisfy the heathen’s mocking nature, but found that he could not. So he simply shook his head slowly and closed his eyes again.

Ivar tossed something hard at him. “Here, eat.” 

The bishop pried his eyes open again and looked at what had fallen before him. It appeared to be a stale piece of bread. He thought of refusing it, but knew that if he was going to keep the faith, he must be strong. He slowly reached for the bread, half expecting Ivar to whisk it away from him again. But the man just watched – that infuriating little smile still on his face – as Heahmund ate.

As he gnawed at the hard bread he nearly choked until Ivar tossed him a wine skin. He drank the sour ale and tried not to make a face at its bitterness. Ivar must have seen his effort, for he was laughing once again. 

Heahmund did not know why this strange heathen found it so humorous to witness his discomfort. Surely he had his own discomforts, being a cripple. Did he have no sympathy for the suffering of others? Well, perhaps not for his enemies.

 

~~

 

Ivar was enjoying this game, taunting this man of god. “Where is your god now? Why does he not rescue you? If he is so great, why did he let us take you?”

The holy warrior did not answer, but took another drink of the sour ale that Ivar had provided him, then began to recite one of the prayers that Ivar had heard while he and his father were captives in Wessex. 

“Our father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

Ivar laughed. “I know what that means. ‘Hallowed’ means holy – but the father god that you believe in isn’t so powerful as the one I believe in. Odin is the true father – the All Father. He is all powerful and could defeat your god in battle.”

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven…”

“Is it his will that you are here in chains? Is that how it is in the Christian heaven?” Ivar gave his best mocking look, a little irritated that the priest refused to look at him. 

“…give us this day our daily bread…”

“Ha, ha, I am the one who gives you bread. You should be calling me ‘hallowed.’” And Ivar tossed another torn piece of stale bread at the bishop.

The priest cringed, closing his eyes, but then opened them and continued, “…and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us….” Here, Heahmund turned his head to stare at Ivar.

Ivar made his eyes serious. “Oh, yes, I suppose you think I trespass against you. I feel so honored that you forgive me!” But then he could not contain his mirth. “Perhaps I should forgive you too, for killing my men.”

The bishop made no indication that he heard or cared what Ivar said. “And lead us not into temptation…”

“And what tempts you, priest? Hmm? Gluttony? Here, here is more bread.” He tossed yet another heel of bread at Heahmund. “Or maybe pride? Yes? I think so. Well, you have much to be proud of – you are a fine warrior, even if we did capture you.” Ivar waved his sword and knocked into Heahmund’s chains, pulling him off balance so the priest nearly fell over. “How about women?” Ivar saw something in Heahmund’s eyes. “Ah, really? I thought you priests were celibate. Well maybe you are, but you wish you were not.” 

Heahmund turned his face from Ivar. “…but deliver us from evil.”

Ivar grinned from ear to ear. “I would like to see your god deliver you from me – for I know you think I am evil.”

“Amen.” The priest said nothing more, but collapsed back as far as his chains would allow him to rest against the wall.

Laughing, Ivar settled in for an afternoon of fun. He ordered his men to beat Heahmund some more to wear him down, then had them throw water on him to rouse him again so Ivar could grill him about his faith. He was really enjoying this banter with him. If only Heahmund would show some humor, perhaps they could even be friends, as his father had once been with King Ecbert. 

 

~~

 

That night, alone, in even greater pain after the day’s trials, Heahmund prayed fervently for release. “Lord, why do you keep me alive? Is it to punish me for my great sins? Please, show me what I can do to earn forgiveness.”

He prayed like this for a long time, until finally exhaustion overtook him and he slumped back against the wall. 

Something woke him in the night – not Ivar again? But no, it seemed to be a vision, white and mysterious, appearing before him. He could not understand why he’d never seen such a thing before. But it was a strange white face, pale, with grayish hair swirling around it. He focused closely on it until he realized that it was after all, Ivar’s face, though pale in comparison to the barbarian’s crazed earthly visage. It was at the same level as Heahmund, as if the man were crouched on the ground as he was in life.

All of a sudden, the face began to rise and Heahmund could see the body attached to it. At first the body was limp and weak as Heahmund had seen the lower half of Ivar’s body, being dragged along by whatever force was raising Ivar’s head. But then the body grew in strength and size and was set down on the ground, upright. The limbs seemed whole and strong, and supported the murky upper body. And this ghost of Ivar now began walking toward him. At first, Heahmund was afraid. Was this some satanic force awakening in Ivar and coming to destroy him? 

But no, as the ghostly figure came close to him, striding ever faster and growing ever larger, Heahmund saw something on the figure. The shining shape of a cross, hanging around his neck. A cross? Well, even the worst of heathens had stolen the sacred symbols of Heahmund’s faith. But still, he’d never seen anything but heathen symbols on Ivar. He had heard that Ivar’s father, Ragnar Lothbrok, had kept a cross among his treasured possessions, but he’d watched Ivar for days now, and seen nothing of the sort. Nothing but the blaspheming actions of destruction of the sacred symbols wherever the barbarians had gone.

But now the vision had arrived right to him – and he could see that Ivar was as tall as he was – maybe taller. He towered over Heahmund, who found himself kneeling. And Ivar reached his hand out to Heahmund. And Heahmund understood.

 

~~

 

The next day Heahmund pondered his vision – could he be certain about it? He berated himself for his weakness in doubting what had to have been the Lord’s vision. Should he tell Ivar about it? 

Before he could decide, he was put to more suffering for Ivar’s amusement. Ivar’s men had come in to administer more beatings. 

At last, a feeling of desperation rose up in him, and Heahmund struck out at his tormentors and shouted for them to stop. The men ignored him, so he fought some more and shouted directly at Ivar. “I can heal you!”

Ivar’s icy blue eyes flashed and he growled something at his henchmen. They backed off slowly. Ivar fixed a scornful gaze on Heahmund. “Just what sort of healing do you think I need?”

“Do you mean to say that you wouldn’t wish to stand and walk like other men? Run and fight like other other men?” Heahmund rose, and straining at his chains, leaned into Ivar’s space. He lowered his voice. “Take a woman like other men?”

Ivar’s nostrils flared. “How dare you speak to me that way! You know nothing of what I can do.”

“I have eyes. And ears. I have not seen you rise by yourself aside from crawling or climbing. And I have seen and heard the other men carousing with women at night – but not you? You seem to spend all your time here waiting to taunt me.”

Heahmund could tell that he was irritating Ivar. But he no longer cared. The man would either kill him, finally, or he would believe him, and Heahmund would have his great chance. He watched as Ivar’s eyes flickered, and knew that the heathen was thinking about it.

“How do you know your god will heal me? Why should he? I am not a believer.”

“Because He knows that the power of healing might bring about a conversion. What better thing to give a man conviction than to be healed?”

“Then why doesn’t he heal everyone who is crippled or wounded? Why does he let anyone suffer or die?”

“Because it takes great faith to bring His power to earth. Not everyone has such faith.” 

“And you do?” Ivar spat at him, spat at his god, and crawled away in disbelief. Ivar’s men stared after him, glancing back at Heahmund, but having been given no new orders to beat him, silently followed their commander. Heahmund took this as a sign from God that he was making progress.

Heahmund could see that Ivar was intrigued in spite of himself. He had at least planted a seed of doubt – or belief – in Ivar, so perhaps that would bear fruit. Heahmund prayed silently that God would give him the power to do this. 

The next day Ivar came back, taunted Heahmund some more, but seemed distracted, even tormented. Finally, after a long period of silence, he blurted out, “What would I need to do, to be healed?”

“Trust me, and have faith.”

“Ah, faith. But my faith is in my gods.”

“Well, then, trust my faith – let me lay hands on you.”

“What do you mean?”

Heahmund explained carefully, relating how miracles had occurred since the time of Christ by healers filled with the Holy Spirit. He shared his vision of two nights earlier, and told him of his belief that if he laid hands on Ivar, said many prayers invoking the spirit of the Lord, he could be filled with God’s holy power of healing. 

“If I allow you to have your hands free, you will try to kill me.”

“Are you afraid of me?” 

“Of course not, but I have no need to fight you and conquer you again.” 

Heahmund resisted the urge to ask Ivar what he’d been doing every day since Heahmund’s capture. It had been a daily war of words and Ivar had been attempting a conquest with each jibe. But Heahmund instead took a deep breath, gave a silent prayer for patience. “I promise on my hope of Heaven that I will do nothing but try to bring about healing.”

Ivar stared at him, as if considering. And then, just as abruptly as the day before, Ivar left. But again, he did not order more beatings of Heahmund – and he had more bread and ale sent.

On the third day, Ivar came back, with his henchmen, and looked as viciously determined to break Heahmund as ever. Ivar began his usual taunting remarks, and Heahmund began to think that he had been wrong to hope. He began to recite the 23rd Psalm.

He had recited half the prayer without Ivar interrupting. Now he began what to him was the most comforting line of the prayer, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me–”

“I will do it.”

Heahmund was startled. He jerked his head around to face Ivar.

“I mean, you will do it. I will let you. Lay hands on me. Say your prayers over me. We will see the power of this god of yours.”

More of the lines of the prayer ran quickly through Heahmund’s head. _Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over…_.

To Ivar Heahmund said, “Very well, we must prepare. Have your men bring holy water from the church.” He went on to explain where that could be found, and what he would do with it. He believed this place needed to be sanctified, so he would sprinkle the room – and Ivar – with holy water and bless them.

Ivar looked skeptical, but ordered the men to bring the water and other things that Heahmund required.

Then Heahmund made a silent prayer that his vision had been true, and that God would make him His vessel. If not, this could be a disaster.

 

~~

 

Ivar was skeptical, but ordered the things that Heahmund had asked for. The holy leaders of his own faith used many elements of symbolism and sacrifice in their prayers and rituals, so this seemed reasonable.

A little while later, Ivar was lying prone on a mat that the men had brought for him. Heahmund had said he would need to _prostrate_ himself before the Christian god. It seemed ridiculous considering that he’d spent most of his life prostrate, crawling around Kattegat, but he humored the man. He looked to his men to be sure they would prevent the priest from doing him harm. They were men he trusted, his body servants, sworn to secrecy, for he had not told his brothers, fearing that they would ridicule him or try to talk him out of this. Ivar would decide this for himself.

Then Heahmund began the ritual. He said prayers, sprinkled holy water, said more prayers, and even prostrated himself, begging his god to let him be a vessel of healing. Finally, he rose to his knees, asked for blessings on Ivar’s limbs, and repeated the process of prayers and laying hands on Ivar three times, first on his head, then his back, then his legs.

Ivar felt tense, for he had begun to hope – could this man really have such power? To raise him from the mud and dust that had been his life? To make it possible for him to lie with a woman and father children? To marry and leave a legacy as his brothers would? To shut forever the mouths of those who would ridicule his weakness? 

He began to shake with anticipation.

 

~~

 

Heahmund could feel the tension in the room as the men were watching, waiting for something amazing to happen. And suddenly there was noise from above that startled them all, making them think that God was doing something miraculous. But then they heard the wings and the cooing and realized it was only the noise of pigeons fluttering to the floor above the window, and the Norsemen laughed nervously. But Heahmund recalled God’s sending of a dove as a sign to Noah – perhaps this was a sign from God, of peace, that all was well, that they need only have patience.

So they waited, Heahmund saying yet another prayer, this time of thanksgiving to God for His blessings. 

But despite his prayers and pleas, nothing happened. Ivar did not leap up and walk, nor even raise himself from his prone position. 

They waited a while longer, Heahmund reciting more prayers, until the darkness began to fall. 

Suddenly Ivar did leap up – but only as he always did, rising to the length of his arms and shrieking at Heahmund, “You’re a fraud! Nothing has happened. I am still a cripple! Your god is weak.” Then he spat in Heahmund’s face, and crawled away, looking every bit like an illumination of Satan as the snake in the Garden of Eden.

And as he left, he ordered his men to chain Heahmund to the wall and beat him.

 

~~

 

Ivar reached the top of the stairs and crawled to his quarters in great fury. He ignored every man who came near him and offered help, only shouting to bring the strongest wine. His body servants caught up to him, and helped him into a chair in his chambers, then slunk off when Ivar’s patience grew thin. No one should see him in this defeated manner. Why had he been so stupid as to believe the lies of that priest? The man would suffer greatly for the joke he’d played.

Then Ivar drank himself into a stupor.

 

~~

 

The men had finally left when the moon was high in the sky. Heahmund had not fought or cried out when he was beaten, he reveled in the pain, believing he deserved such punishments for his sins – he had never felt so alone and defeated – this was worse even than being defeated in battle. Why had God sent such a vision only to fail him? Or had he failed God? Was it too soon? It could only be that he was an unworthy vessel of God’s power. He deserved whatever fate God had in store for him. 

He drifted off into oblivion, praying for God’s mercy on his soul.

 

~~

 

Something awakened Ivar – something from his past. He raised his head, gasping. Pain, intense pain. It was worse than he recalled from his childhood, when his mother sought help from that visiting man, Harbard. 

He shifted and strained, but the pains grew worse and worse and he could not help shrieking in agony. 

His men came to him, begging to know what they could do to help him. They offered him wine to ease his suffering, but he knocked the wine skin away.

“He has not healed me – he has cursed me – doomed me to worse pain! Take me to him so I can watch him suffer and die for what he’s done.”

The men started to help him up, but his pain grew worse, and Ivar gasped at the intensity of it. He rested for a moment, but then ordered them to lift him again. They grasped his arms, raising him. They made a seat for him and carried him to the place where Heahmund was held.

The pains increased yet again just as Ivar was entering the room where Heahmund was chained standing against the wall, spread eagle, clearly exhausted and suffering. 

Ivar shouted at him, “You will suffer all the more if you continue to curse me, priest!”

But Heahmund did not even open his eyes – he just dropped his head forward on his chest and Ivar could see that the man had accepted that he was going to die. Heahmund began that prayer again.

“Our father, which art in heaven…”

And something welled up in Ivar, his fury rising, he wrenched himself from his men, as the pain in his legs shot violently through him, he launched himself forward, preparing to hurl himself at the man in chains.

But as he neared the wall, he heard gasps behind him, and saw that Heahmund had raised his head and was looking at him with incredulity. And Ivar realized that he was at the level of the man’s head – even higher than his head – that he, Ivar, was walking, or rather staggering, but had feeling and control in his legs, albeit poor. But getting stronger each moment, as he finally reeled against the wall, trying to catch himself from falling against the priest. But he ended up leaning against him, almost in an embrace.

Despite breathing heavily, Ivar could hear Heahmund saying, “Thine is the power, thine is the glory, thank you my lord, thank you!” And Ivar realized that the man was weeping, and trying to embrace him despite being chained. 

Ivar did not understand. How could this man’s god heal him? Why would he? Was he really healed? How long would it last?

Pulling himself away from Heahmund, Ivar turned around, and could see the disbelief on his men’s faces. They reached out to congratulate him, crying, “You are healed, Ivar! We saw it! You walked!”

Ivar drew himself up, testing his legs, and realized that despite the continuing pain, he could control his legs. He was growing stronger by the minute, and made himself walk towards the men. 

And he could. 

 

~~

 

Heahmund was beside himself. The Lord had delivered him. He’d shown him that he could be redeemed, that he was worthy of being His vessel. 

And now Ivar was turning back towards him, his face radiant, his eyes – those ever-changing strange blue eyes – alight with the Holy Spirit. A strange smile spread across Ivar’s face, but it was not the sly, scheming smile that Heahmund had come to know. It was a smile of joy, pure joy. 

And then he turned back to his men, pushed past them, and stalked out of the room.

Then men looked surprised, stared at Heahmund, muttering under their breath. They seemed afraid of him, as they turned and followed their commander.

Shaking in his chains, Heahmund laughed with a jubilation that had not been his since he’d first taken holy orders. He felt no pain, no distress, only the power of God’s grace. He laughed – and cried – until a great white light came over him and he knew no more.

 

~~ 

 

Upstairs, Ivar was walking, and half running, his legs shaking a bit, but seeming truly strong and growing ever healthier. He was really healed. He walked about, trying out his new skills, stumbled, grabbed onto walls or furniture or men, realized that he would need practice as he’d never walked before, but that he _could_ walk, and soon, could run. And fight – really fight as other men did. 

He shouted for the men to bring his brothers. They hurried to him and were amazed to see the change. The slapped him on the back and congratulated him. Calling for wine and food, they celebrated – all the while talking about this miracle and trying to understand how it could happen. They debated about whether it was really the priest or whether perhaps it was Eir, the Norse goddess of healing. Long into the night they discussed and debated and sang, until finally, they fell into a drunken sleep.

The next morning, Ivar awoke groggily, aware that he was on the ground as usual. Remembering what had happened, he groaned, thinking that perhaps it was all just a dream. But then he tried to move his leg out from under his brother’s head, and was startled to see that he could. _Without using his arms!_ Hvitserk’s head clunked to the mat, though it did not wake him, and Ivar laughed with joy. 

It was true. He was healed. 

There was still some pain and tingling, and he was very stiff, but Ivar had command of his legs. He maneuvered around to the prone position that he was so used to, used his arms to pull himself up, and found that he could now bend his legs under him to help raise himself. Within moments, with only a little more effort than most drunken men, he was standing. He laughed uproariously, finally waking his brothers, who looked up at him through blinking eyes.

Without talking to them, Ivar began walking around the room, testing his strength and balance. Stumbling a little, he wandered out of the room, desiring nothing more than to exercise his newfound skill. 

Then he remembered the priest. Where was he? He had worked a miracle, but Ivar had not even thanked him.

Ivar staggered towards the stairs, and eyed them warily. His body servants came toward him, offering help. He waved them off and carefully negotiated the steps. 

Rejoicing as he reached the bottom of the stairs successfully, Ivar walked slowly, composed, and in full control back to the bishop, who was still standing, chained to the wall. Ivar raised his hands to the man’s face. At first the man cringed, as if Ivar would strike him. But Ivar took Heahmund’s face in both his hands and gripped it firmly, but gently. “You did it. I cannot believe it,” he whispered, embracing the man as if he were a revered relative. 

 

~~

 

Heahmund had slept like the dead that night, and was awakened sharply by the noise of heavy footsteps. And suddenly, before he was fully in control of his senses, Ivar was upon him. At first, Heahmund thought he would kill him, but then, to Heahmund’s great gratification, Ivar was embracing him. 

By God’s grace, Heahmund had won.

 

~~

[](https://imgur.com/UTOfeaT)

~~

 

~~

Notes:

Ivar in York and whether Ivar had a disability – I had looked for proof that Ivar was in York, and it’s documented in this article. He seemed to have stayed in England (East Anglia, Mercia, and Wessex) and possibly died at Repton. None of this matters for the sake of my story, since Heahmund is not mentioned in regards to Ivar, but it is mentioned in the article about the 871 Battle of Marton that Heahmund fought the Great Heathen Army, possibly led by Halfdan Ragnarsson (nicknamed “Hvitserk” which means “White Shirt”), and he died there, so he may indeed have been defeated by a son of Ragnar. 

I don’t believe that Ivar the Boneless was named that way for a physical condition; it has been suggested that his nickname was mistranslated and meant something like “Baneless,” meaning that there was nothing that could defeat him. And some sources suggest that he was the man buried at Repton who is supposed to be a huge and powerful Viking warrior, and that the bones buried there do not suggest that he was disabled (just that he died a very horrific death). 

And unlike in the show, Sigurd was not killed by Ivar, but lived to fight and to marry Blaeja, the daughter of King Aella, and together they went on to rule Denmark.

And according to the sagas, all of the sons of Ragnar seemed to be involved in fighting as part of the Great Heathen Army that fought and conquered parts of England in the 800s. It’s interesting to read a bit more about each of them.

[ An interesting article about Ivar.](http://www.englishmonarchs.co.uk/vikings_10.html/)

Information about Heahmund is [here.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heahmund)  
More about the Battle of Marton is [here.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Marton)

More about the other sons of Ragnar:  
[ Halfdan Ragnarsson (Hvitserk “White Shirt).](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hvitserk)  
[ Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigurd_Snake-in-the-Eye)  
[ Ubbe.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ubba)  
[ Björn Ironside.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bj%C3%B6rn_Ironside)

Of course the show plays havoc with the sagas and events recorded in England, so it doesn’t really matter who I have living in this story. But for the record, his brothers in the story are Ubbe and Hvitserk.

~~

The Lord’s Prayer – This prayer comes from lines in the gospels of Matthew and Luke in which Jesus taught the people how they should pray. I have used the version most often heard in modern times, though of course Heahmund would likely have used Latin. The lines, “For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever,” known as the Doxology, were added later, so I have left them out of his initial prayer, but borrowed them for his exclamation after the miracle. And whether Ivar could really understand the lines is artistic license; he seems to speak Heahmund’s language pretty well for the time he spent in Wessex, so I’ve just assumed that he was taught the Lord’s Prayer and what it meant. 

[The Lord’s Prayer.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord%27s_Prayer)

Interestingly, Pope Francis, just this past December, suggested that a line of this prayer should be changed. He says that “lead us not into temptation” would be better translated as “let us not fall into temptation” so it doesn’t sound like God would lead his followers into temptation.

[Lead Us Not Into What? Pope Francis Suggests Changing the Words of the Lord’s Prayer.](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/12/08/lead-us-not-into-what-pope-francis-suggests-changing-the-words-of-the-lords-prayer/?utm_term=.e4a63ba17100)

~~

Use of capitalization conventions – When it is Ivar’s POV, I have not capitalized references to the Christian God, but when it is Heahmund’s POV, I have, showing the respect he would have in thinking of his God. Hopefully I was consistent.

~~

Eir – Norse goddess of healing. [Eir.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eir)

~~

Faith healing – I wanted to be sure that Catholics of the Middle Ages would believe in faith healings, and since they were recorded in all four of the gospels, and later by St. Augustine, apparently they did. The incidents in the Bible were stated to be based on the faith of the person being healed, and I did not look into the later ones deeply, but took artistic license to have a man of faith heal a “heathen” in my story. No irreverence is intended; I make no claim that such healings can or cannot take place. The world is a mysterious place. 

[Faith healing – Catholicism.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faith_healing#Catholicism)  
[Divine Healing in the Early Church.](https://www.christianforums.com/threads/divine-healing-in-early-church-history.7350040/)

~~

The 23rd Psalm – This is what Heahmund was reciting in Old English in Episode 506, “The Message.” I chose to use the modern English version for my story, but of course you should imagine that Heahmund and Ivar were speaking Old English in the entire piece. 

[Vikings 506 Recap.](http://www.patriciabracewell.com/2017/12/vikings-5-recap-episode-6-the-message/)  
[Psalm 23 KJV.](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+23&version=KJV)

~~

Thanks for reading! Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors. This was written very quickly with very little editing and only minor revisions. Thanks for your understanding.


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